Looking for Forgiveness From the Start
by Second-Hand Musings
Summary: Rossi and Reid decide to set their boss up on a night of partying after work. He didn't really need their help.


Looking for Forgiveness From the Start

"Hotch, are you still in here?" It was the young Dr. Reid that knocked on the SSA's office door just ten minutes before eight on Friday. "It's late, you know."

Hotch- Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner- glanced up from the waist-high stack of files on his desk, nodding in response. Figuring that the comment from his subordinate was meant to be a directive towards his son, he replied, "Yes. Jack is with my mother." He knew that Reid meant nothing by it; other than that he was concerned for both the three year old and his boss. "Is that all you need?"

Reid went to step out, looking over his shoulder at someone else. He then reluctantly returned, fidgeting awkwardly. "No. Um, Rossi and I were just _going out for drinks_. He, well, we were wondering if you wanted to join us?" Hotch caught himself smiling.

Not only did Spencer Reid never just _go out for drinks_; as he would always prefer spending his night alone with Tolstoy and Milton than in a bar- but just the simple mention of David Rossi alerted him that they were up to no good. There was some type of plot underway- to which he was some key component. "Depends, why?"

"Uh," Another glance to Rossi, "Because- because we're a team-and- and we never see you, anymore. He- we think- it would be fun."

Hotch thought it over. _How bad could it be? _He felt sorrier for Reid than anything; he knew David well- whatever he had put the poor boy up to must be hellish. The least Aaron could do was be moral support. "I suppose it won't kill me. I've been reading over cold cases all night, anyway." He left the papers spread on his desk for Monday, grabbing his briefcase and following Reid into a stagnant bullpen. They met up with Rossi, smirking like the devil, and all headed towards the parking garage together. "Now, what's this really about?"

"Nothing," David assured him tauntingly. "Just a night out."

"Somehow, I don't believe you. Oh, wait- I know why: last time I had a _night out_ with you, I blacked out and awoke in the bed of a prostitute." Hotch retorted dryly. He glanced over at Reid, whose eyes went so wide he could see his own reflection within them.

"That was your own fault. You're the one who got into a drinking game with a Hell's Angel. Besides, she wasn't a prostitute; she did everything for free." Rossi was nonchalant, which was no surprise to Hotch. He just rolled his eyes.

"I thought you weren't going to talk about that again?" He was referring to the agreement they had made the Monday afterwards, when Hotch stumbled into the BAU looking like death and Rossi responded by bursting into telling laughter at the coffeemaker.

"Incorrect. I agreed to never _bring it up_ again. You're the one who mentioned it." They got into Rossi's car- a red mustang, fittingly- and drove to a new nightclub that had opened in inner DC. Reid sat in silence in the back, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Are you upset that you're missing Jeopardy?"

"I haven't watched Jeopardy since I was ten. Their questions are elementary, really-"

"Do you remember what we talked about?" Rossi quipped quickly.

Reid nodded. "Be more conversational." He said it like he was repeating an order issued by a parent. Hotch chuckled to himself as Rossi filled him in on his plan to get Reid laid.

"_I'm sure if we get the girl really drunk, she won't even notice that he has had no practice." _

Hotch felt even worse for Reid, glancing back at him to give an encouraging look. They arrived at their destination, climbing out of the car and heading into the place.

The music was uncomfortably loud- Hotch gritted his teeth against the ringing in his bad ear. Loud noises still irritated him and caused partial deafness. He decided that he would ignore it, following his coworkers to the bar.

They all took shots. While Hotch and Rossi took them like champs- as they had years of late nights after a half-assed day's work in Homicide to practice- Reid looked like he was going to throw up. Hotch patted his back solemnly. "It'll be okay, Reid- do you need some water?" Instead, Rossi ordered them another round.

After another half-hour sitting at the bar, listening to David's twisted plan to get his youngest agent some action, Hotch decided his time here would be best served finding the young man a more suitable match. _Any girl that's easy isn't right for Reid, he's too- complicated._

Usually, Aaron was hell-bent to stay out of his coworkers' private lives, but the mix of alcohol and feelings of pity for anyone at the hands of Rossi's matchmaking talents had him leaving his spot to meddle. As soon as he was gone, David grinned. "Part A underway," he told Reid.

"I feel kind of bad about this- I mean, I know he isn't over Haley, yet." The plan was never about Reid. In fact, Rossi was pleasantly surprised that Hotch had bought into this- no strings attached. He should've known better. The real plan was to set Hotch up with someone- preferably suitable, but not necessarily.

"Take it from me; he'll never be over it. Your first wife if the truest love you'll ever have- even if you leave her, you'll feel her presence eternally. But you can't be a slave to it. Hotch needs to move on." Rossi was really referring to his own loss; his first wife committed suicide after being diagnosed with ALS less than a month prior. Maybe it was the liquor, but Rossi allowed his true feelings on the subject the slip past his exterior: he had gone back to work the day after the funeral and succeeded at seeming unaffected- a coping mechanism. Really, he didn't want the team asking him if he was okay. He knew that- someday- he would be fine.

Reid touched his shoulder, but pulled back when he stood up abruptly. "Phase B, find Hotch suitable mate."

"Jesus, Rossi. I feel like I'm doing a grad school sociology experiment."


End file.
